Tortured
by Lostbtvsfemslash
Summary: Instead of moving to Sunnyhell after Buffy got kicked out of school, Joyce moved them across country.
1. Chapter 1

**Tortured by Lost**

Chapter One

Disclaimer: They're not mine... obviously. haha

Summary: Instead of opening the art gallery in Sunnydale, Joyce took a position across country.

A/N: This story has been rewritten to be in first person POV. And now it's actually got a plot, yay! Oh, and special thanks to my betas, Kina, Valyssia, and Whedonist. 

***************

I let out an audible sigh and stare down at the ugly cover of the text book nestled securely in my arms. What the hell made me sign up to take psychology again? And in the fall semester? This is gonna be one helluva class load. Add in Art, European History, and Film Appreciation, I'm gonna be one busy girl...

I drop the book into my plastic handheld shopping basket and walk as inconspicuously towards the check out line as possible. The last thing I wanna do is draw attention to myself. It's bad enough that this place has that pull. That tug of power radiating out from—well, I'm not sure where, but I can feel it throughout the whole town, almost like a dense smog.

A barely audible hiss escapes my lips as I come to a sudden halt at the end of a way too long line. I'm never gonna get out of here. Not everyone can be as smart as I am and wait until the first day of classes to buy their books, right? And yet, here we all are. Me and what looks like thirty other people. Joy.

I scan the crowd in front of me. I'd call it a line, but it's lacking in the 'single file' department. It's just a big cluster-fuck of people. The cute redhead in front of me looks like she's holding the same psychology book as I've got resting in my basket. Huh, cool.

This place is okay, I guess. Really all I wanna do is go back to New York. It's big, and cold, and easy to get lost in. The only problem is that people there know me. So, here I am. Podunk California.

Really, I missed good ole sunny So-Cal the moment we moved. But after a while, I adjusted. That's what happens.

The line moves forward a short step and I yank myself back to reality.

There's light streaming in through the blind-less windows above. It takes all of my effort not to slip my sunglasses down from their perch on the top of my head. As much as I love the sun, it really doesn't love me back.

The redhead in front of me turns around and smiles. Her voice sounds almost too perky as she asks, "Oh, you're taking psych one-oh-one, too? I heard that Professor Walsh is great. She's supposed to be world renowned."

Both of my eyebrows lift. World renouned huh? Is that 'nouned' like... proper subject and should be involved in a sentence? And if so how you can get 're' nouned? Do you become double subjecty? Or is it the other kind of 'nowned'? I bet it's the second one.

I take a moment to study the girl's face. She's definitely a hottie. Beautiful pixie haircut that frames her face, dark green eyes, and just a hint of a blush in her cheeks as she says, "I'm Willow, by the way."

She holds her hand out and I do my best to smile back. It's been a while since I've actually smiled at someone, here's hoping I don't look like a china doll with a broken face. I reach out and grab the offered hand. I nod for punctuation. "Buffy."

She exclaims, "Oh, cold hands." And quickly drops the handshake.

I do my best to offer what I hope is a placating expression. "Heh, you know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart."

Or in my case: cold hands, dead heart.

This time I can't stop the snicker that bubbles up, and she laughs right along with me. Hmm, possibly an ally against this double subjecty teacher?

She looks way more bookworm-ish than I am. It's always good to know people who know what the hell is going on in class.

After a couple minutes of small talk, the line finally puts us next to the cash register. Willow pays and wanders off without as much as a glance back. Maybe I was wrong about the ally theory? I shake off the slight disappointment at the thought and step up to the counter.

I flip open my wallet and quickly slide enough cash to cover the books across the counter to the overly interested looking clerk.

He's got moppy brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and dark blue eyes. It takes a little bit of effort on my part to not roll my eyes when he flashes what I think is supposed to be a charming smile my way.

Thanks buddy, but you're so not my type. Instead of the rude eye rolling, I wait patiently as he hands me back the change. "Have a nice day." There's that smile again.

I nod curtly and reply, "Thanks, you too..." A quick glance down reveals his name tag and I read it off trivially, "Brock." Brock. What kind of a name is that? My eyebrows scrunch up as I consider what kind of parents would feel the need to stick a kid with a name like that. And really, what kind of a middle name would go good with it?

The change gets dropped unceremoniously into my pocket as I walk out the door. Brock. Sounds like a cartoon.

I shrug and turn the corner, only to run straight into Willow. See, Willow's the kind of name I can get behind. It's really just... well, pretty. Period. And girls should have pretty names. Especially ones who look like her.

Hopefully, her parents didn't stick her with a doozy of a middle name. I crack that 'getting used to being used' smile again. "Willow. Hey."

She waits for me to continue walking before she falls into step with me. "Hey yourself." A few moments of awkward silences pass. "So, where exactly are you from? 'Cause I know it's not here. I would recognize you if you were from Sunnydale."

I nod a little. Exactly how much does she need to know? "LA originally. Recently? New York." Straight and to the point. That's me. Well, not so much with the straight, but I do my best to be simple. Most of the time.

Surprise echoes in her voice as she asks, "Wow, two big cities. Why would you ever come to a town like Sunnydale?"

I shrug again. "Why not?"

We walk slowly down the flights of steps, and towards a door to the outside world. I step into the sun and try not to smile too much. Even if Sunnydale is too bright, and too alive, this is me getting over it. It feels good.

It almost makes me feel alive.

And that's something I haven't felt in well...

There's a bench sitting outside near the exit, and we sit down facing each other with a large gap between us. Let's see if I can still do the 'social' thing.

She starts firing off questions about The Met, NYU, and cultural differences between the two coasts at such rapid pace that if I needed to breathe, it'd be a problem.

I realize pretty quickly that I was right. She's definitely a book nerd. But in a very cute kind of way. I'm not sure if that's disturbing or not. Stella was a book nerd, but not the kind that read them; she was the kind that wrote them.

A boy plops down next to her half way through my explanation of my major in the way that only a rag doll or a teenager can. He wraps an arm protectively around the petite woman and places a kiss on her cheek. "Willow, why don't you introduce me to your new friend?" I scoot away from the human rag doll.

"Oops, I'm sorry. Xander, this is, Buffy, Buffy, this is, Xander, my boyfriend."

I nod at the boy currently sitting next to me, and do my best to not let my expression falter at the last two words of the sentence. 'my' and 'boyfriend'.

It's not like I know this girl to be staking a claim over her anyway. I shrug off my annoyance nearly as quickly as it flared up and shake his hand like a good little human. "Oh, cool, nice to meet you."

Willow proudly beams. "Buffy's an art major!"

And our conversation's back on track. Disregarding the dopeish boy sitting between us, I focus all of my attention on Willow and lean forward so I can see around him. "I'm really just hoping to gain some new perspective in class, that's all..."

Xander, the annoyance, doesn't seem all that content to sit and listen to 'our' conversation. So it's turned into a 'their' conversation.

I puff some air up and blow my bangs out of my face as I lean back against the bench. That's it. Continue on with the conversation. Nope, I'm not here. Pfffft. Couples. I wonder if we were like that. I let out a disheartened sigh.

Willow keeps sending me glances during their conversation, little worried looks; almost like she wants to try and pull me in to their deep discussion of the complexities of Dungeons and Dragons characters. I do my best not to glare at her. There's not a snowball's chance in hell I'm joining that convo.

I'm tempted to pull out a cigarette just so they'll go away. Sad really. I like Willow. But Xander? Sheesh, can you put on any more eau de nerd?

While I sit, contemplating the merit of smoking my new friend away, their conversation changes course. I see Xander glance at his watch and hear him mutter something about a class. He goes to school here? I wave a nonchalant goodbye to the boy.

Hmm, just one more reason on my long list of why NYU is—should've been and would've been—the school for me. In the negative column for my original school of choice: people. Especially Willow.

She's already been added to the negative column. Fuck. Glad I enrolled. Guess I kinda gotta stay here now. Even if she is straight.

And I'm playing the 'social' card again. "How long have you guys been together?" Please let it not be long. I'm crossin' my fingers, and toes, and if I could, without her giving me a funny look, I'd do my eyes too.

"Maybe two months? Not long." She doesn't sound all that certain about two months. It really isn't that long, but it's a short enough time so that you always know how long its been. It could be my inner cheerleader ringing through, but I'm sensing uncertainty of conviction. For shame! "What about you, have you got a boyfriend back home?"

Boyfriend? Ha. That's a laugh. But I can play along. "Me? Oh...no, I'm boyfriend-less." And letting the sarcasm drip just one tiny little poisonous drop, "Sucks, huh?"

The crestfallen look on her face tells me that she just took that question seriously. So, maybe I'll try to be less sarcastic this time. "I was dating someone, but we ended it."

I can feel the demon inside of me roll its eyes at the choice of phrase. It takes a lot of work to suppress its sarcastic comments, and for some reason it doesn't always work. It's cussing on the other hand? For some reason that always manages to slip through.

"Oh, I'm sorry, how long were you together?"

Hmm, me and Stella. Before I killed her. Uh... "About a year and a half."

"Wow, that's a long time." Not nearly long enough. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I'm concentrating so hard on them not letting them leak out, I nearly miss her next question.

"What's his name?"

And we're not playing the straight card anymore. "Estelle was her name. But I always called her Stella. She just never really seemed as stuck up as an 'Estelle' should be, ya know?"

"Oh, so you're...?" Willow trails off.

Bing! Bing! Bing! We have a winner ladies and gents. I can fill in the blank for her, I'm nice enough. "Gay?" Off her nod I reply, "Yup. That's me. Gay Buffy."

Ironically enough, I remember when being gay was the weirdest thing about me. But that only lasted until I was fifteen. Then I got shiny new names that qualified me as weird.

That blush creeps back into her cheeks. "Well, that's cool. My best friend and her girlfriend are both gay. Well, I guess that kind of goes without saying, but, you know what I mean?"

Wow, she has gay friends. Color me shocked. Well really, we are in California, I should've expected some other gay people. Even in Podunk I guess.

I nod at her in answer, and she stands straight up.

"In fact, there they are. Hey Faith, Tara! Come here!" she yells. I doubt they're really far enough away to warrant fuss, but I keep my wince to myself.

She points to a brunette and a blonde who have changed direction and are now walking towards us. Hmm, maybe they won't be nearly as bad as Xander.

As they get close, that tug of power gets stronger and stronger. Is this the source of the dense smog in SunnyD? No, it can't be. Whatever they are though, they're powerful. Both of them. This is definitely not a good.

I need to book. Soon. "Faith, Tara this is Buffy... uhm, I'm sorry. What was your last name?" Well, at least she tried to introduce me. I guess I'll go with my real last name since that's what I'm registered under. Really gotta work on changing it legally. That's gonna be a pain in the ass.

"Summers."

A look of awe passes over the blonde's face. "Summers as in... the artist?"

I nod curtly. "Yup that's me, in the flesh." Dead, but hey, at least I've still got flesh. That's definitely goin' in my plus column.

The aura surrounding both of them is nearly overwhelming. I need to get out of here, now.

The blond walks up to me, and as she does the sense of her sets off what I used to call my 'spidey sense'. Only now, instead of working on bad guys? It works on the good ones.

Dammit.

Mental Note: use fake last name from now on. People recognizing me could lead to badness.

She shakes my hand quickly before I can pull away. "Wow, it's so cool to meet you. I thought you were supposed to be going to school in New York?" I'm out of here. Trying to be social is too much work. Period. Not to mention the whole 'way too much power' radiating off of these two.

"Yeah, yeah I was. But hey, I gotta book. It was uh, nice meeting you guys." I spare a glance at Willow.

"See ya."

And I'm off. Away from them. And the redhead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

A/N: Special thanks to Valyssia, Em, and Kina for beta help.

That was an experience. I think I could go another year without being around those two. Willow wasn't too bad, it's just that I'm really not a large crowd kind of person anymore.

I walk towards my art class, watching the people who pass. The sun beats down on me, warming my skin. I pass an empty bench and decide to sit down, just enjoying the day.

Reaching into my bag, I take a cigarette from my pack. I should quit. I promised Stella I would.

I promised her a lot of things, though.

Sighing, I place the filter between my lips and slouch forward to fish my Colibri from my jeans pocket. I click the lighter and take a deep drag, then slowly let the smoke go.

Here's to my health.

College was supposed to be _it_ for us. For the first time in forever, things were gonna be perfect.

I close my eyes and see her smiling face. Tears start to form in the corners of my eyes and my nose gets that annoying tingly feeling. I take a long drag off the cigarette. Maybe it'll help curb the impulse to cry.

I haven't cried since the night Dumbass DuMos stuck me with my goddamned soul. I've got no clue whether it was a 'revenge' thing or that annoying 'holier than thou' streak of stubborn nobility. I did sorta kill his daughter. But knowing him, it was about being noble. Stupid Watchers.

Longest night of my life and all I did was cry. It's the only time I can remember crying that much.

Somehow I ended up at her grave. Clueless how I got there. I stood until the last few moments before dawn, and then I laid down. It would've been so easy to stay there and just let the sun do me in. I'd lost her. Worse, I was the monster…

I want to bail, but my vision's so blurred with tears now that walking's out of the question. I take another drag instead. Go figure, my brain just won't let it rest. It's like a dog with a bone.

The sky was getting lighter by the moment. I wished so hard that I could just go back a few weeks. Back to stop everything. Back to when things could still be perfect.

I could've fixed it.

But the PTBs obviously thought things were just peachy. No slack for me.

The rays were just a few inches from me, peaking over the headstones when Whistler showed up and ruined my brilliant plan. I don't remember much, just him smiling upside down at me, then darkness. When I woke up, we were inside of a mausoleum.

His voice echoed through the stone chamber. "Wakey, wakey, Sunshine."

Annoying bastard.

He made it sound like they have some grand scheme, but I really just think they're playing it by ear. Trying to keep the 'balance'. Whatever that means.

I can't think of a single good reason why Stella's in the ground and I'm still walking around.

A tear seeps out and I roughly swipe it away. Great, now my makeup is screwed up too. I can feel the pressure building up in my chest and the tingly sensation in my nose just gets more obnoxious.

I blink away the tears and glance down at my watch, taking in the goofy cartoon dog. He's all blotchy, but his silly grin still jumps out. Scooby Do. A harsh laugh bubbles up. I let go. The good: it eases the pressure and the prickly badness.

I've got about five minutes till art class starts and I still need to fix the mess that is my face.

I wiggle the cherry off the end of my cigarette, stepping on it to kill the fire. After tossing the butt into the trashcan beside me, I reach into my bag and pull out my PDA.

This was a purchase I just couldn't resist. The vamp lifestyle just wasn't working for me. Figures technology would eventually catch up with and surpass an ancient curse.

I flip it open, start the camera app and snap a picture of myself.

Welcome to the digital age.

It's not as bad as I thought. A little puffy around the eyes, but that'll pass.

Waterproof mascara for the win. Not only does it resist smudging, it last for days which is a major bonus when you're reflection-free. Just putting eye makeup on is an adventure.

Quickly stowing my PDA, I spare a glance at Scooby. Two minutes late. Go Figure.

I stand and hitch my pack over my shoulder before setting off in the general direction of my class.

The watch is pretty much a weirdness all of its own. It's a whimsical new addition to my ensemble. I picked it up on the way here. It's not like there weren't tons of choices. It doesn't really match anything I own, which at least gives me a uniform unmatchiness.

Unmatchiness aside, I needed it. Couldn't exactly cross my fingers and hope I'd find a place to stay before sunrise. It didn't help that the light for the stupid dash clock is out.

Paying a bunch of gorillas to restore my car wasn't the brightest thing I've ever done. That they didn't fix the dash lights—now that's just classic. Figures I'd get attached to a piece of shit beater like that old AMX. Silly me, I just had to have it. It and the pile of frustrating crap that came with it.

Course, I didn't think about that.

Really, me driving is a scary thought. Especially when you consider, I spent my 'learning how to drive' years in a city with really good public transportation.

I was tempted to hire someone to drive, but it would've been a waste of money. Plus, with the 'getting to know you time'…I took a pass. Chances are my driver would've ended up a light snack.

I'm supposed to be 'laying low and not drawing attention to myself' girl. That was the entire point of enrolling to begin with.

Welcome to the non-sensey chain of events that is my life…

There might be a lesson here. But I'd have to give a shit to see it. From beater cars, to cross-country drives, to watches with silly cartoon dogs… I glance at the cheap watch. I really should get a real, grown-up watch one of these days.

Again with the giving a shit.

Pushing one of the heavy metal doors aside, I step inside the building, finding myself in a long, dingy corridor. The air's chilly, the lighting really sucks and all of the walls are a drab gray color that could pass for car primer. It's seriously the sort of place most people avoid, which, I suppose, makes it a great place for an art class.

I walk into the classroom. My eyes instantly adjust to the overhead fluorescent lights. Easels stand in one big circle around the room. The polished concrete floor matches the general level of drab. People sit in the majority of the empty spots.

Standing in the middle of the circle is—I'm assuming—the teacher. She's a heavy-set lady with short, black curly hair and gold rimmed glasses. She could pass for somebody's grandma. And her shirt screams uh...safari, with just a few extra neon colored triangles thrown in. She's talking. Saying something about a survey.

As I skirt past her she hands me a bright pink piece of paper. She smiles tightly at me, "Thank you for joining us, Ms…?"

I find an open seat, sit down, and supply, "Summers."

Her eyes widen for a quick second, then she turns back to face the class. "As I was saying, I'd like for all of you to fill out a quick survey for me. Okay?" She nods as if punctuating the statement.

Can we not?

The only proof that anyone's even noticed her speaking is the sudden silence. No one that I can see gestures 'yes' or 'no'.

I stare blankly at the copy she handed me.

'How long have you been interested in art?'

She's earning major points for both creativity and originality.

Hmm, how 'bout since I was four and Mom stuck me in art classes? There's something about moms who run galleries and having a thing for art. It makes a kinda perverse sense that Mom can't draw a stick figure to save her life. So I became the next best thing to being there.

But that's probably not an 'acceptable' answer. I sigh and scribble, 'As long as I can remember.'

All of the questions are like that. Way too open ended to answer with one word. Especially the last one.

'Tell me something unique about yourself.'

There's a bunch of extra room under it. Nearly half the page. Well, I'm a gay—sorta retired 'cause of the deadness—ex-slayer. Oh, and I've probably made more money selling prints than you make in an entire year. That unique enough for ya?

Is there even such a thing as an 'ex-slayer'? I don't think that's the right way to put it. But I know it must exist. I'm pretty sure I'm not a figment of my own imagination. Then again, I could just be some loony in a mental institution who dreamt all this up.

Yeah, right.

To not be the slayer, you have to be dead, which—well, technicalities aside—still walking, talking and answering moronic questions, so…

It's not like they just let you quit. I would've if I could've. But I guess I did sorta quit. Then with the mess and the wacky master plans…

Note to self: Find out where exactly I fit in the grand scheme. And WTF I'm supposed to be called.

I should really have a title.

Slayer-sitter?

I roll my eyes and turn the paper over, leaving the question blank.

I wonder what kind of reaction an answer like that would get? She might agree with the 'loony' thing. Or maybe she'd end up being a Watcher. An evil fighting, good guy cleverly disguised as my art teacher. Pffft. There's a laugh.

A poor, emo looking kid stands up and turns his paper in first. I shrug and follow his lead.

I slump down in my seat and do my best to sit still. It's not like I care much about annoying people, but the 'being still' thing seems to fit with the 'low key' plan. Yup, that's me…a model of discretion.

Glancing around, my eyes skim over the other students. Most of them are still scribbling away at the last question. I use the 'everyone else is working' time to survey the room.

Old charcoal sketches are stapled in place, covering most of the walls. Some look fresh, while others look so old that the paper's yellowed and the corners are torn up. The hairspray must've worn off with time, because most of the yellowed ones are so smudged from people rubbing up against them that I'm not really sure what they were originally.

I tilt my head to the side and study one almost right in front of me. The bottom left corner's been ripped and taped back in place at least once. It may have been a vase. Or a coat rack. Or a giant, erect penis. I can't decide which.

I stifle a giggle and watch as the last person turns in their paper. My eyes follow her back to her spot and then dart back to our teacher. She's got a whole new stack of papers in her hands.

Oh, goody!

She passes out the papers and I stare blankly at the title: Course Syllabus.

_Great_.

I hate these things. They're always the same boring list of rules and grading formulas. There's gotta be a giant handbook that every teacher ever is given with this piece of paper in it.

She starts reading through it and I glue my eyes to Scooby's arms. Each second ticking by makes a loud echoy noise in my ears. I know it's not really that loud, but I'd rather listen to the clock tick than go through another syllabus. What really sucks is that I know I'll have to go through another one before the day's up.

It's all a waste of time anyway. I've both been here and done this. It's like the administration office for UCSD went 'Well, it's great that you're really a sophomore and should be in the most advanced painting class…according to New York. But we really think you need to get those kindergarten basics down pat!'

I hold in the exasperated sigh I can feel welling up in my chest. Fifteen minutes until Psych starts.

The soft murmur of talking fills the room again and I rip my eyes from Scooby's mocking grin. Mrs. Cranston is standing in front of the class looking at all of us with that big goofy grin still stuck on her face.

She claps her hands to get our attention. She's gotta find a new way to get people to shut up. Her clapping's gonna get old really fast.

Maybe I'll get her a whistle?

No, it'd be too loud.

Maybe a bell?

No, too maid's quarterish.

"Class will be cut short since it's our first day. Your assignment? Draw something, anything at all, as long as you think it's interesting." She smiles happily and waves us off.

Again with resisting the impulse to raise an eyebrow. I've had weirder art teachers. But that doesn't mean they all need to be strange, does it?

It's like when they were growing up, they had to take the career assessment tests and the results read, 'You're weird. Please select one of the following exciting career choices: A: Shopping cart lady. B: Shrink. C: Art Teacher.'

I grab my stuff and stand up. Something interesting to me, huh?

I used to paint Stella a lot. Of course, I had to sketch her before I could paint her. But she was always nude. Maybe I'll try something less naked. How about, uh... a rock? They're not really so much not naked, er…uh, clothed. But their nakedness…

Yeah…I'm sure I could find a nifty rock just lying around somewhere.

I walk across the quad and into the Psychology building. Its way nicer than the art building was. Red and beige bricks with large windows make up most of the walls and the hallway is a large open space filled with people. I manage to skirt around most of the students, who're just standing in place, talking, and find my psychology class.

Hmm, a totally different set up.

There's a giant staircase up both sides of the class, and movie theater type seating. Only with a lot less cushy looking chairs. That's kind of a rip. I have to walk up half a flight of stairs to sit in an uncomfy chair?

At least art had cushy chairs. Maybe there was a trade off? Cushy chairs or nice building? Sounds like they were gypped to me.

I roll my eyes and settle for a spot half way up, somewhere vaguely towards the middle. Grabbing my sketch pad out of my bag, I stare blankly down at it. Might as well at least attempt to look busy. Maybe it'll discourage people from sitting near me.

I grab my pencil and start to sketch the first thing that pops into my head.

Go figure, it's disturbing.

Every time, it's always the same. I used to be able to draw happy things. But lately, all that seems to come out of me is death. I sigh and scratch out the outline of a corpse.

A plopping noise next to me yanks me out of my thoughts. I spare a glance at whoever just sat down.

Willow smiles brightly at me and offers a tiny wave, "Hey, mind if I sit here?"

I raise both eyebrows. She kinda already is.

"Be my guest." I think I can handle just her. My brow relaxes. "How was your class?" I close my sketch pad and shove it back into my bag.

Her smile widens before she answers, "It was great. The professor is supposed to be new here, and he's got all of these artifacts that he collected from all over the world. And each one has a story tied to it, like today he showed us this piece of parchment that they carbon dated back to renaissance times! And that's not even including the books!"

My eyes widen just a little bit. That was pretty impressive, considering she still needs to breathe if she wants to continue living.

"Oh, oh, oh, and not only that, but he said he'd let me read them!"

I might be scared if she wasn't so damned cute.

I chuckle a little bit at the thought. What else is she gonna do with the books? Use them for Christmas ornaments?

She sucks in a huge breath of air. "And yes, I'm always this much of a nerd."

I give her a reserved smile. "It's cool. Willow babble's kinda cute."

Color floods her cheeks and she looks away.

Okay, so…I was flirting with her. But it's not like I was asking her to have sex with me tonight or anything. Sheesh. She's uh...well, even cuter flustered.

She glances at me and flashes a quick smile. See? Compliments aren't that bad.

I grin at her, nearly on autopilot.

Someone at the front of the classroom clears their throat loudly. I tear my eyes from the hottie next to me and look down. Major disappointment. There's an older looking blonde woman with cropped short hair, and a younger guy who looks like a cardboard cutout.

The woman speaks up first. "I'm Professor Walsh. I'll be your instructor for introduction to Psychology one-oh-one." She waits for a second and then gestures at the young man. "This is Riley Finn. He'll be my T.A. this semester."

He gives a short wave at the entire class and steps forward. "At the beginning of each class I'll be calling roll alphabetically by last name. Just raise a hand and say 'here'."

Behind him, Professor Walsh starts speaking again. "After roll each day, we'll begin with the lecture." She starts passing out papers and I look down at it. "I run a tight class, and assign a lot of work. I expect you to keep up. Tardiness and absences will not be tolerated."

Another syllabus.

Joy.

The T.A. starts the roll call. He doesn't look like a very interesting person. His voice fits his face. I try not to yawn. I stare down at my nails, searching for something more interesting than him.

Shouldn't be too hard to find.

Yeah…this is riveting.

When did I get that bruise on the back of my hand? I don't remember that.

"Willow Rosenberg?"

Willow raises her hand next to me and pipes up, "Present."

I look towards him. He barely notices her reply. Huh, ass-wipe.

I shoot him a glare, but he completely ignores me.

"Buffy Summers?"

Giving him a vague half-wave, I mutter, "Here."

This time he glances up, double-takes and finally stares.

I give him my best, most-intimidating glare, the kind that used to make baddies run in fear.

Only, he doesn't seem to notice. His expression glazes over and I give in to the urge to roll my eyes. It seems to snap him out of it.

He finishes and Professor Walsh starts going over the syllabus.

I slip off into my own little world. Again. At least this time, there's no survey.

I lean over and let my head rest on my open hand. I could really use some sleep. I haven't even found my dorm room yet. The having a dorm room at all is bleh-worthy. We were gonna get an off campus apartment. Dorm life was never supposed to enter into the picture.

Now I've got to not only put up with B.O., burnt ramen smell and my roommate; I'm actually paying these people to let me put up with all of it. This year's gonna be a blast.

I let out a loud huff through my nose. Willow turns to glance at me and I send her a reassuring smile.

Euch. Not to mention co-ed bathrooms.

If living off campus was an option, I totally would. UCSD has this rule about first year students. I tried to argue that technically I'm a sophomore, but they _so_ weren't buying it. So here I am. Ten months in hell.

I look up. Walsh is still talking. She waves her hands a little bit for punctuation. But I'm really not listening, so I don't exactly know why the punctuation is needed.

Willow stands up and I give her a questioning glance. She smiles slightly. "It's time to go. Unless you just like these seats. Then I guess you can stay. But I really don't think they're worth it."

I nod. "No, definitely not that comfy."

I stand and follow her down the stairs. I walk past Riley and he calls my name.

La-di-da…I can't hear you. I can't hear you.

I smile at Willow, just listening to her as she talks about some computer class she's taking. She pauses mid-sentence, and looks behind me with a funny expression. He must've followed us.

"Uh, I think someone's trying to get your attention." She nods behind me.

I don't even have to look. The stench of Old Spice totally gives it away.

_Great. _

My eyes widen as he gets closer. Leaning in, I whisper, "Play along?"

She nods, not even asking what I want her to play along with. I reach out and grab her hand, turning to face the rapidly approaching T.A. at the same time.

"Hey, Buffy." He stands awkwardly in front of me, rocking back and forth on his feet with both hands stuffed into his jeans pockets.

I smile politely at him. "Hi Riley. What's up?"

Please don't ask me out.

He glances down at our linked hands and then back up at me. "I was just wondering…" he starts off lamely and finishes even lamer.

Figures. Working up the nerve is a thing. I wonder how he'd take it if I flashed him my alter-ego. A thin smile flickers across my face. Of course—stupid me—he takes this as permission to continue.

"I was just wondering if maybe you'd…" I put on my best glower. "…if you want to go out with me sometime," he finally stammers to a conclusion moments before I start with the hand twirling.

Is he seriously that stupid?

Do I really need to ask?

Oh, I get it.

He's really an enchanted Ken doll, brought to life with dark magic by an evil witch bent on giving me an ulcer…

Or a headache.

Has to be it. Bet if I pulled his head off, it'd be hollow.

Maybe later.

"Sorry, but I'm kind of...taken." I hold up our hands and he turns instantly bright red.

"Yeah, and uhm, I really don't share well," Willow says and leans over to plant a kiss on my cheek.

If I was still alive, I'd blush.

He gets a tight smile on his face.

"Oh, okay, well, maybe some other time then." His voice sounds so pathetic. I think even he knows that 'some other time' won't ever come.

"Yeah, sure, maybe." But pretty much 'no.' Never. The only way would be if that witch turned me into a Barbie.

Good luck with that.

I turn us around and guide us toward the exit.

She tightens her grip on my hand and asks, "Is he still watching?"

I glance back as inconspicuously as I can. Numbskull still has his gaze glued to both of us. "Yup."

We walk out the door and around the corner before I loosen my grip. My hand is just hanging at my side, but for some reason she's still holding on.

"Thanks for the save."

She lets go after a second and blushes.

And with the awkward silence. We both look down at her fidgeting hands.

After a minute, she looks up and the fidgeting stops. "So uhm, do you have another class? Or…?"

I smile as she finally meets my eyes. "No, I'm free. You?"

"Free. Extremely free. Have you found your dorm yet?" I shake my head no and she continues, "Do you know what hall you're in?"

"Stevenson, I think."

She starts fidgeting again. "Me too. Wanna maybe walk together?"

I nod and she leads the way.

"I haven't met my roommate yet, but there's a posting down at the bottom of the stairs that'll tell you what room you're in."

I wonder if everyone here is this…uh, _open_? Maybe? She'd last about three point two seconds in New York.

Anyway, she just accepts whatever and doesn't question.

That's probably not a good thing. That way lays badness and ruptured necks.

Then again, she doesn't get that I'm kinda pulse-less. Or would that be pulse-free?

She's still talking, but I kind of zoned on her.

Whoops.

"…took me a few to find it, but it's just up here on the left." She points to a big brick building ahead of us. I nod as we approach.

Spying a clipboard, I shake my head and walk up to it. Yeah…it's like someone gave this whole damned town a huge shot of naïve. Once I locate my name, I turn and give her a sidelong glance. "I'm in room two-fourteen." Oh joy. Losers above me and losers below. Good times! "What's yours?"

She smiles back excitedly. "Oh this is great. I'm in two-sixteen. We're neighbors!"

She reaches out and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers. "C'mon, I'll show you where we're at."

I smile in agreement and follow her up the stairs.

But I'm not so much minding the view. My attention fixes on her—

Gah!

Stupid eyes!

Equally stupid boyfriend…

And only badness lies down this path.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I stare down at the Cher CD case in my left hand. Could this girl get any lamer? Maybe if I beat my head on the corner of the desk, I'll knock myself out. I could distract from the icky badness. I've never really had a personal opinion on Cher. But now, hunting her down and making her a midnight treat sounds like the keenest thing. I sigh loudly. Not that she can hear me.

'Believe' starts up on that stupid mini stereo again. Wonder if she'd notice if I stuck a finger in each ear and started singing? This song wouldn't have been on my top play list before, but I definitely _had _no problem with it. Then again, I wasn't forced to listen to it twenty four-seven.

I glance back down to the song list.

There are nine other annoyingly upbeat tracks on this CD. She doesn't need to keep playing the same one over and over. Do people make lists of songs they never want to hear again? What would it be called? The DON'T PLAY list?

I need to be nice. Nice Buffy equals easier life with the roommate from hell. It could be worse. Will says her roommate has parties all the time. That's it. Just keep thinking, 'it could be worse.' My teeth grind together unconsciously.

"Wow, this music is so, so...."-Be nice. Be nice. Resist the urge to fill in, 'boring,' 'sucky,' 'repetitive,' 'gonna make my brain dribble slowly out of my ears if you continue playing this crap.'

She looks up from ironing her jeans and smiles widely at me, nodding her head to the annoying beat. "I know. This song is super fun, isn't it?"

No! A world of no! Instead, I offer, "You bet. It just gets fun-er and fun-er every time you play it!" That didn't sound too sarcastic. Yay for me…

I've got to get out of here. Now.

I walk over to the closet and pull out my only jacket. I really need to go shopping and get more clothes. One duffel bag worth of clothes just isn't cutting it here. I slip it on.

"Oh, you're going out?" she asks.

She 'mothers' me more than my own mom ever did. Although to be fair, Mom never ironed her jeans. Anyone that tightly wound needs to find a way to relax. I wonder if she's ever tried yoga?

I sigh and nod. "Yeah, I'm feeling seriously caffeine deprived." Not to mention blood deprived. I think 'Roommate Kathy' would have a cow if I started storing blood in our itty bitty fridge. Suppressing a chuckle at the mental image of her keeling over, I head for the door. Can't kill the girl, but I can dream. Another sigh escapes my lips and her voice grates on the last damn nerve I have.

"But it's late. Won't you be up all night?"

I pivot back to face her. I unclench my jaw and force the nice. "Yeah, but it's cool. I'm an 'up all night kinda gal.' I did mention that, right?"

She's still nodding along to that stupid damn song.

She makes this weird little 'harrumph' type noise. "I guess I didn't realize you'd be coming and going at all hours. Not that I mind. I'm just surprised."

Yup that's me. 'Pain in the ass, comes and goes all night and hates Cher' – Buffy.

I nod curtly at her. "Yeah, well, I'll be quiet as a mouse. Promise."

And with any luck she'll be asleep by the time I get back.

I'm half way out the door, nearly home free. My hand is still on the doorknob; Cher is still pounding behind me. "Oh, Buffy-"

And -- I keep walking. No more Kathy tonight. I can't handle it. She may just inspire me to ignore that pesky conscious I got stuck with. And blood would never come out of this carpet. The door clicks shut behind me and I let out a breath of air I don't need.

See? She's bad for me. Making me breathe and listen to Cher and...

A tiny pout forms on my lips as I walk past Willow's room. She wasn't kidding about her roomie. Loud music pounds through their closed door. Maybe I should rescue her? I shrug.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll rescue her. Tonight, I need blood.

I jog down the stairs and out the side door, taking a deep breath of night air as it hits me. I don't need to breathe, but for some reason, Sunnydale night air has this scent I've never smelt anywhere else. Not even home. It's intoxicating.

A quick glance down at Scooby tells me that I've got thirty minutes before the butcher's closes up shop. If I cut across campus I should just be able to make it with ten minutes to spare.

Quickly turning to the left, I head off down one of the more poorly lit paths. You'd think with the death rate as high as it is here that they'd have enough sense to put more lights on campus.

A loud crunch sounds behind me and I stop moving. Wonder who that could be? Maybe a baddie? I could get in a good fight in ten minutes. It'd be the perfect way to spend those few extra seconds…

I stand in a shadow, waiting for another sound to tell me where whatever it is, is hiding.

Silence greets me.

I sigh and start walking again.

And stop. A soft rustling noise gets picked up on the wind.

I don't have time for games. "Alright. Why don't you quit hiding and come out and face me like a … thing."

My arms are crossed over my chest, with my hip cocked out to the side. Not a weapon in sight. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't have a few hidden on me. I'm blonde but I'm not stupid.

The rustling noise gets closer and I drop into a defensive posture.

And out pops Kathy.

Oh, for fu… I stop the curse. Patience. You remember what patience is, right? A deep throated growl answers my question. It never _really_ was my thing.

I roll my eyes and stare up at the sky. What'd I do to deserve this?

She bounces to a spot next to me. "Hey, I caught you…"

I can feel a growl building up in the back of my throat but I swallow it down. Maybe she's got a legitimate reason for following me? Like uhm…

I go through a possible list of reasons. Maybe I forgot my cell phone? Nope, can't forget what I don't have. Maybe I accidently took her CD case? Yeah, right. I ask as non-accusingly as possible, "Is everything okay?"

Maybe she just _wants_ to annoy the shit out of me?

She's smiles at me. "Everything's super! I just decided a decaf latte sounded like heaven after all." Ding ding ding!

We have a winner.

I'm gonna end up killing her.

She won't leave me alone for a fucking half an hour so I can go and get blood from the butchers like a good little vampire with a soul. I'm just gonna end up having to get it straight from the source.

I shudder at the thought. "Oh, so you're coming along?"

"Well, why not? This way you don't have to walk these spooky paths all alone, right?" She shrugs slightly.

She's acting like she's doing me a huge favor. My eyes squint and I glare at her through the dark. "Great. That's just great."

The pout comes back. I'm definitely not gonna make it to the butchers tonight. Dammit!

We start walking. I wonder if I could ditch her? It wouldn't take a lot. All I need is one good distraction.

She stretches her arms up above her head. "This is great, isn't it? The fresh air, the trees, the--"

A cloaked figure darts out of the bushes and knocks into her.

Hey! A distraction. Great.

She's struggling on the ground with… whatever it is. Now's my chance. I can still make it to get my blood. I can just walk away from them.

I cock my head to the side. It really looks like she's losing whatever fight they're in. Maybe I should help? I sigh loudly. Stupid soul.

My hand snakes out and I grab onto its hood, giving it a solid yank backwards. It flies off her. See, like magic. I don't pay attention to where it lands. Kathy looks really upset, just laying there on the ground.

"What the blizzard was that all about?"

Who the hell uses blizzard as a curse word?

I roll my eyes again and put a saccharine tone in my voice. "I have no idea! Are you okay? It looked like he was trying to take your backpack!"

Yeah, right.

Her eyes grow wide with astonishment, "What were you thinking? Trying to take him on like that?"

If I hadn't 'taken him on like that' you'd probably be dead, dumbass.

"I don't know. I panicked, I guess."

I should've just left. I should've just left and let whatever it was eat you or kill you or torture you or… what else do evil things do?

"It's just…you could've gotten hurt or something. And look at my sweater! It's ruined."

That's your big worry? Your sweater? Sheesh. I really _should've_ just left. "Yeah, sorry about that." I stare down at her mangled sweater.

It doesn't look like much of a tragic loss to me. Thing was ugly as hell before the mud. Now it's just ugly as hell _and _has brown goop on it. "Let's get you cleaned up." I offer her a hand up.

She grabs on. "Thanks."

Maybe I'll get to go to the butchers tomorrow?

*******

_I'm back in New York, walking the streets like I used to every night, all of the streets between Stella's house and mine. It's a good few miles._

It never mattered where I patrol. DuMos drove me to wherever he wanted me. But he never once offered me a ride home. Always just assumed I could walk.

The streetlight up ahead has a halo around it. I stop underneath it, just starring up at its glow. I must be drunk. Lights never show halos to me unless I'm drunk.

A hand grabs a hold of the back of my neck.

I try to squirm out of the vice like grip, but it's pointless. I already know what's going to happen.

It's always the same. Cold air brushes my ear as I hear him say, "Hello Goldilocks." And that feeling starts up in the pit of my stomach. I hate him. I always have. And I always will.

Stupid Billy Idol wannabe.

I sit straight up in my bed, glancing over. Kathy's still asleep. Good. I need to get blood. Not sure where I'm gonna keep it once I have it, my stomach can't hold that much. I guess I'll throw it away. I only need to eat once every couple of days.

Slipping silently out from under the covers, I walk over to the closet and grab some clothes. I could care less what I'm wearing so long as I can put it on silently.

I zip up the hoodie and slip on my Keds. Maybe I'll go shopping today? I've kind of been putting it off. And what better time than when you're avoiding your roommate? I walk swiftly out the door and lock it behind me.

I pass Willow's dorm and stop. No, I can't right now. I need blood. I 'll come back for her later… maybe convince her mocha's are a good idea? Besides which, most college students aren't awake at eight in the morning.

I lightly jog across campus, ignoring the looks that the – I'm guessing they're frat boys… jogging…send my way. That's weird. Since when do frats jog? And as a group? I shrug. Must be hazing.

I move away from campus and towards Main Street. The butcher is just down the road and to the left.

The glass door swings open and I step out of the way, letting the little old lady carrying what smells like beef past. She smiles politely at me and I nod in return. I slip inside the shop and get in the short line. Everything here smells cold and dead.

Stepping up to the counter, I let both of my arms rest on the edge that comes up to just under my shoulders. The man behind it smiles brightly at me. "What can I do for you, Miss?"

I return the expression. "I'd like four pints of pig's blood, please?"

His smile falters for a second but he pastes it right back on.

"Sure thing." He walks away from the counter and towards the back of the shop. I wonder what they tell themselves to explain some eighteen year old wanting four pints of blood. It's not a lot, but it's more than most teens come into contact with.

He comes back with a big brown bag, passes it over the counter and I hand him a twenty. "Keep the change."

Four pints wouldn't last me very long if I had a place to store it. But I don't. And my stomach really isn't big enough to drink more than that. I need to rent an apartment or something off campus. That way, I'll have a place to store blood- and to escape my damn roommate.

I walk out of the shop and head towards the closest ally. This is seriously gonna suck, but I can't take it home and pop it in the microwave. Ducking into a small alcove, I sit down and place the bag next to me. I pull it open quickly, ignoring the sting as a set of staples used to hold it shut scrapes my arm.

The blood is in four styrofoam cups with lids and rubber bands around the top of them to hold it in place. I grab one of the ones on top, yank off the lid, letting the rubber band fly away, hold my nose and take a deep gulp.

The cool, thick liquid flows easily down my throat. I drain the entire cup. The kind of shudder you only get from taking a shot of alcohol you hate passes through me but I shake it off roughly. A small burp makes it way up my throat and I swallow it down. Only three more cups to go.

The last little bit of the fourth cup makes me feel like I'm gonna barf. I stand up quickly, grabbing all my trash and tossing it into a nearby dumpster. I turn and head back towards campus.

*******

Racking my knuckles roughly against the surface of the door, I wait for it to swing open. After a minute it does. Willow smiles sadly at me. I'm not sure what's up with the frowny face. "Hey, you busy?"

She shrugs slowly. "Not really, just kind of… here."

My eyebrows scrunch together. "What's up?"

Tears well up in her eyes for a second but she blinks them away. "Xander broke up with me."

Yes! I feel an internal happy dance going on for a minute but I stifle down any mean comments. I need to be 'comforting, supportive, ex-boyfriend hating' Buffy right now. Not 'I wanna get in your pants' Buffy. Taking a step back, I offer, "I'm sorry Will… is there anything I can do? Ice cream? Mocha's?"

It takes her a second but she nods. "Yeah, I could go for chocolatey goodness. Hang on a sec." She disappears from the door frame and reappears a minute later with her purse. She steps out and locks her door. I offer my arm and she grabs on gratefully.

We head towards the exit. "Wanna talk about it?"

She just shrugs again. "I should've seen it coming. I mean, it was really just a convenient relationship anyway. And he's been acting really strange the last few days."

I turn my head to look at her, "What do you mean 'convenient'?"

She glances at me quickly then looks back down at her feet. "I used to have such a big crush on him while we were growing up… but over the years it kind of, wore off I guess? By the time we started dating, I saw him as a 'friends only' person. I just assumed that the crush would come back with time."

Both of my eyebrows rise up. "But it didn't?"

"Nope. And I guess it won't. I'm not really that upset… definitely not 'ice cream' upset. Maybe just 'girl talk and Mocha's' upset?" I nod and we just keep walking.

*******

I drop the phone back down on its cradle just as the door opens. Kathy walks in, "Don't forget to log those calls."

I roll my eyes. Yes Mom. She sits down prissily on her bed and pulls out floss. Eww. I know that dental hygiene is important, but does she really need to do it in front of me?

I reach down and grab an apple out of my backpack. Gotta keep up appearances. Opening the tiny fridge's door, I roll my eyes again. Everything in here is labeled 'Kathy'. Is she seriously that paranoid about her food? Finding a tiny spot in the door, I manage to squish the apple in. It's a good thing I don't need to eat. That would obviously be an inconvenience for her.

Spitting my gum out in the trashcan near the door, I walk back towards my bed. Why'd she shut the window? I push it open again and sit down.

The annoying squeaky noise from Kathy flossing finally stops. I glance up quickly. At least she throws the floss away. The idea of stepping on used dental floss barefoot sounds… grody.

A sticky noise resonates through the room. "Eww! Who left their gum here?" She's holding a book in her hand with strings of gum connecting it to the bedside table.

I snicker softly and answer, "Gum gnome?"

"It wasn't me! It had to be somebody, Buffy!"

Man she's really wigging over it. I shrug. "I dunno."

She gives me an unbelieving look and slams the book down. Back on the gum. And turns off her lamp. I reach up and switch mine off too. I can hear the party from Willow's room pounding next door…

Flipping onto my side, I pull the pillow over my head. It's gonna be a long night.

_The demon from last night is holding me down. I struggle against it, kicking my legs frantically, never coming into contact with anything solid._

Blood pours down my throat and I can feel my demon stirring. Human blood. It's been so long since I've had any kind of human blood. Whoever's blood it is has been dead for a while… it's got a stale taste, but still.

The blood stops and I feel like growling. I want more. A tickling sensation starts on my stomach and I glare down at a lethal looking scorpion. They feel the same way about vampires that wasps do, I know this, but still, there's a scorpion on my stomach. Lumbering its way up my chest, towards my throat.

The demon uses its knees to hold my arms down and its hands to push my jaw back, angling my head and prying my mouth open. A wisp of smoky looking vapor escapes from my mouth and into the demons. Its eyes glow turquoise against its fake tan and it smiles, displaying a row of deadly sharp looking teeth.

I stretch groggily and rub my eyes. "Do you always make that noise when you sleep?" Stupid bitch.

*******

"So then, after the scorpion, the demon opens my mouth and sucks some weird kind of light out of me. And the worst part? I wake up and there's Kathy, staring at me like I'm some kind of freak!" My grip on the plastic coffee cup tightens and I see the shape of the cup warp slightly. Loosen up, Summers. Before you scald yourself.

Her voice sounds timid as she asks, "What did she say?"

I sigh loudly and let go of the steaming cup full of mocha. "Just asked if I always make that noise when I sleep." A chocolate fix seemed like a good idea after that dream, but it's not doing what it usually does. The mocha isn't calming me at all and I feel like I'm gonna rip someone's head off if they cross me. "I'm sorry. I'm just having a really hard time with her. Between the flossing, the OCD about her stupid rug, hell she even irons jeans." My eyes drop down to the napkin I'm shredding.

I should really get away from Will and spend some quality time with my roomie. At least then, the head ripping off would have a good reason.

She smiles sympathetically. "Wow, I'm sorry, that's rough."

I shrug nonchalantly. "It's no big. How was your night?" Maybe a change of subject will help keep me from… I don't know. Killing someone? I wouldn't. Would I? Even though I brushed my teeth, used mouth wash, and I've been drinking this mocha for the last five minutes, I still taste the coppery flavor thick on my tongue.

My eyes scrunch up as I try to concentrate on what she's saying. Something about a party and not getting any sleep. "I'm sorry, Will. That sucks."

"It's okay. I mean, college is supposed to be about partying, right?" I nod and she lifts her eyes to meet mine, then continues, "I just didn't think it was supposed to be a party _every_ night. I was thinking 'maybe on the weekends and only at fraternity houses'. Guess I was wrong."

Maybe I should have a talk with her roomie? Sounds like Willow could appreciate having her roommate's head ripped off too. Plus, more blood.

No. No. No. I will not kill roommates, no matter how much I hate them. I will not. I haven't felt this way since before DuMos cursed me with my soul. But back then, I wasn't arguing with myself. Something's not right.

Someone walking by bumps into my shoulder and I growl. Willow jumps slightly and stares at me. Her eyes are as big as saucers. "You- you, you're a vampire!"

I don't even think about it, "No I'm not." Did I slip?

She nods, "Yes you are! I saw you!"

Fuck. Maybe if I pretend I have no idea what she's talking about she'll drop it?

"Will, vampires don't exist. I'm not sure what you saw, but it was probably just a trick of the lights."

She shakes her head no. "They do too exist. And I just saw you go all 'grrr' face! It wasn't a trick of the lights! Wait, how are you a vampire? We're outside in the sun!" The last two sentences were whispered and accusing. Fuck. My head drops down into my hands.

I guess I have to tell her. "Look Will, yes I'm a vampire…but I'm a good vampire. I have a soul and everything."

She just glares at me. "Why did you lie?" She stands up, pushing her chair back roughly and turns away from the table.

I follow her lead, "Will, wait, let me explain, I-" I reach out and grab her arm, but she yanks it back. She turns to face me and I swear that if looks could kill I'd fit in a dust buster right now. I'm here to help. They sent me.

She holds up a hand to stop me. "No, don't. I need to think about this… I need to. I have to go."

The words die in my throat. She's gone. She was gone before I could even get the word 'explain' out. Goddamn, mother – my growl takes care of the rest of the curse. Sighing, I drop back into my chair. A few curious glances get sent my way and I can hear someone whispering something about a 'couple's quarrel'.

I glance down at Scooby. It's time to meet Whistler.

*******

My hand freezes on the doorknob. The sound of Kathy laughing insanely loud can be heard through the door. And I really don't think it's just the vamp hearing either. I let out a sigh of frustration. I just want five fucking minutes by myself. Getting off would be nice. She's always in there. Maybe I should start living at the library?

I giggle at the thought of the old lady librarian walking into the differential equation for engineers section while I'm masturbating.

After a second, the door swings open and I step back. Some guy gazes at me for a minute and I can feel him mentally undressing me. I shrug off the look and walk past him. Still laughing, Kathy introduces him. "Buffy this is Parker, Parker, my roommate Buffy."

I drop my backpack down into my desk chair and avoid eye contact, saying, "It's nice to meet you." No need to give the boy any kind of encouragement.

"Parker just stopped by to drop off these." She holds up a box of zip lock baggies and I nod. Like I care?

Parker starts laughing, "And then we just started talking, turns out Kathy here is a closet hockey fan!"

She giggles that annoying giggle that tells people you really don't care and like that you're being teased, "You swore you'd never tell!"

He smiles mischievously, "It could just be the sweaty men." She swats him in the arm and I roll my eyes. I walk over and open the window. It smells like aftershave in here. Straight people. Euch.

"If you two are gonna rassle, would you mind taking it outside? I've got a lot of work to do." I walk over and switch off 'Believe'.

He looks sheepish for a second. "Sorry, I didn't realize."

I just nod and ignore Kathy as she says goodbye. The door clicks shut and she turns to glare at me. "It wouldn't have killed you to be nice." My eyes roll all of their own accord. Seriously, she's so annoying that even my eyes hate her. Maybe she's a test? Maybe the PtB sent her down to test me, see if I have my soul fully intact? If so, then I just might fail.

"Looked like you were being nice enough for the both of us." I've already had to deal with her once today after my meeting with Whistler. I really don't wanna do it again. Especially since she let it slip earlier that she spilled ketchup all over my _only_ sweater.

She lets out a sigh and shuts the window. "I was just being nice to him."

A disgusted expression crosses my face. "Sure, fine, whatever." I pull the deadlock out of my bag and slip it on the closet door. After earlier, I'm not taking any chances. She sits down on the bed and starts flossing again. On my way back to my desk, I open the window. Again.

Both of her hands drop to her lap. "I'm cold." I can see a large pout on her lips from the corner of my eye.

I shrug and slide into my desk chair. "Well, I'm hot. Deal with it."

I can feel her staring at me. "You know what your problem is Buffy?"

Without a second's hesitation I reply, "You?"

She lets out a harsh laugh. "Hardly. You're spoilt. The world may have revolved around you where you used to live, but it's share time now, Buffy."

That's it. I'm done. The pencil I'm holding snaps in half and an image of the half in my hand makes my insides grow warm. It's sticking out of her head as she lies dead on the flood. Resisting the impulse to make fantasy a reality, I turn to face her. "Share time huh? I'll show you share time." I reach over and open the little mini fridge and pull out her carton of milk. It's got the word 'Kathy' written on it four fucking times.

Squeezing open the lid, I tilt my head back and take a giant gulp. I can feel the milk slide down the outside of my mouth and soak my shirt, but I really don't care. I step back so it pours onto the carpet. Milk comes out easier than blood.

*******

I walk down the dark path quickly. After the whole milk fiasco, I need to be away from her. I'll finish my work either tonight when I get home or tomorrow. Doesn't really matter. The butchers shop has been calling my name for the whole damn day. I nearly gave in and killed her. The all too real fantasy of her blood coating my hands. I like my lips thinking of….

What the hell's wrong with me? Yes she's annoying, but that doesn't give me the right to kill her. I shake my head to rid me of my fantasy. Like shaking is gonna work, but…

At least I don't think it does. Well, most of the time, I don't think it does. All I can think about is blood. Whistler said there was something going on, but he didn't know what. Just that I should keep an eye out.

Could he get more cryptic? And his clothes? Sheesh. The badly dressed little half demon, whole demon, whatever he is, is getting annoyingly cryptic-er by the day.

I leave campus and step onto Main Street. As I get closer and closer to the little shop, the scent of blood gets stronger and stronger. And it's making me feel sick. Probably has something to do with that stupid dream. Pig blood isn't exactly fine dining for someone of my persuasion.

I step in, place my order, hand over my money and leave. I head straight for the little alcove I used before. Half way down the alley, I can hear a scuffle from somewhere in the dark up ahead. I set the bag down in the little hidey hole and head straight for the noise.

There's a girl on the ground, struggling with a vamp that has her pinned down. "Get offa me you sonavabitch!" As she swears, he turns to dust. How'd she do that? Willow steps out of the shadows behind her as the girl stands and I realize that the little redhead is the cause of his sudden dust bunny-ness.

She guardedly smiles at me. "Buffy. Hi."

I look at her, stunned. Her voice and posture say she's still pissed off. "Uh… Hi Willow." I recognize the girl now. It's Faith. The Slayer. And she's bleeding. Great. Just fucking great. I can feel my face shift as I catch a whiff of human blood. Slayer blood. Goddamn it!

*******

My pencil taps as I look over the page. So they know. The slayer and her group know that I'm a good guy. It took a little bit of convincing, especially since the vamp face slipped. But I showed them my bag of blood and they left me alone. Faith even suggested I come to something called a "Scooby Meeting," whatever that is.

I guess that mean's Willow isn't pissed off at me anymore. That's good at least. She could be a real friend. I haven't had one of those since Stella.

The whooshing noise of a nail boomeranging off into the air cuts through any thoughts I was trying to have. Kathy's sitting on her bed, clipping her toenails. Seriously? I get that this is her bedroom too, but still. A solid thwap sounds as the nail hits the carpet.

I start tapping my pencil faster. And she turns on "Believe." Oh my fucking god. My brain. My pencil snaps, again. I reach up and grab a pair of ear muffs, wrapping them tightly around my head. I can still hear the music.

I control the involuntary shift and turn away from her. Shit.

I sigh loudly and drop them back on my desk. "I'm going to bed." Climbing under the covers, I turn off the lamp and shut my eyes. After a minute she turns off "Believe" and I let out a sigh of relief.

_Stella smiles excitedly at me. We're standing in an empty two bedroom apartment. I know this place; it's just off of 89__th__ and Columbus. We just convinced both of our parents that we're adults and need a place of our own while we're in school. Mom wasn't too happy about it, but she finally agreed to foot the bill._

I look over to see that the realtor is still standing in the living room and I pull her out of the door frame so he can't see us. She lets me drag her away and I smile, leaning in to give her a kiss. I pull back and lean my forehead against hers. "This will all be ours." I look over her shoulder at the view and sigh happily. "We could even have this be our bedroom."

We've been together for a year and a half, and except for the occasional sleep over, we never get to share a bed.

Her expression mirrors mine and we kiss again. This time she's the one who breaks it off saying, "We can finally tell them that we're together!"

My smile just grows. My mom knows that we're together. Three months into us dating she caught us making out. I was nearly grounded for a month before she cooled off enough for us to talk. Once she made it clear that we weren't allowed to have sex in the house, everything was cool.

I nod in agreement. "How do you think they'll take it?" I brush a stray strand of black hair away from her face and stare into her eyes.

She shrugs slightly, "I dunno." She stares down at our linked hands. "Hopefully well. I hate it when families keep secrets from each other." I hide a cringe as she says this. She knows that her dad is my watcher, but she didn't find out until a year ago. Finding out that her father had been lying about his job for her entire life really screwed with her for a while.

I nod again and smile wistfully. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about it…" My eyes fall down to my twisting hands. I'm still apologizing for keeping a secret that's been out of the box for nearly eleven months.

She tilts my chin up. "Babe, it's not your fault. I already told you. His lying to me had nothing to do with you… I love you."

I wrap my arms around her neck, pulling her close so my mouth is next to her ear and I whisper, "I love you too."

The scene fades around me to black nothingness. The same demon from last night is still pinning me down, drawing a symbol on my stomach in blood. Human blood again. My demon reels from the scent.

Another scorpion gets dropped onto me and just as my face is about to shift, another wisp of smoke is pulled out of my mouth.

I sit straight up in bed and open my pajama top. There's no symbol. It was just a dream. Dropping back down on the bed, I glance over at Kathy. She's moaning in her sleep. I wait a minute then swing my legs over the bed. I don't have time to deal with her this morning. I throw some clothes on, grab my backpack and get the hell out.

*******

It's nearly nine. I'm supposed to meet Willow and Faith here in a few minutes. The "Scooby Meeting" earlier went surprisingly well. I don't think I trust Faith, but Wills seems okay with her. The door clicks shut behind me and I walk past Kathy's desk and into the dorm room. I need to get some supplies. Faith and her ex-watcher, Giles, want me to go on a group patrol tonight. Evidently, Willow's one badass Wicca. I nod curtly. "Kathy." Don't say anything. Just don't. Don't pick a damn fight. Don't kill your fucking roommate. It'll look better if you don't kill her. Especially considering the whole, 'trying to prove you're a good guy' thing. Which I'm so totally starting to get over.

She glares at me. "Buffy." I should settle this. I should at least try to make things better. We've still got nine and a half months of living together to get through.

I turn away from my closet door to face her. Keep your tone neutral Summers, don't make her be defensive. "I think we should talk, don't you?" I feel like I'm worrying about upsetting a rabid animal.

She gets up and walks over to me before answering. "Oh, absolutely." The way she says it makes my skin crawl. If she picks a fight, I'll kill her. I was guilty about it before, but that pesky soul thing feels like it's nearly all worn off.

I kick the corner of the rug up. "Oops, look what I did."

Her hand comes flying towards me and I roll with the backhand. The expression on her face freezes in a mask of contempt. "Huh, look what I did." My hand reaches out and I can feel hers burrow their way into my hair. Are we really having a hair pulling contest?

Stupid fucking cunt!

I throw a head butt and her hands fall out of my hair. I just keep pulling as hard as I can, and I feel skin give way as her face peels off. Oh…eww! That's disgusting and sticky and eww! She lifts her eyes up to face me and I realize I probably look like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming trucker. It's the demon from my nightmares.

I throw a quick jab at her face and my fist connects, spinning her back so she's facing my closet. Our door opens and Willow and Faith are standing there. Watching us fight. Haven't they heard of knocking? I'm trying to kill my roommate here.

I run and tackle the thing that was wearing Kathy's face.

Willow screams, "Buffy, no!" She can't see that my roommate is from hell. Literally. She doesn't know better. Kathy turns to face her and smiles evilly. I see shock on Willow's face for a second before I get slammed up against the wall and drop off Kathy's back. The wall cracks slightly from where I crash into it. I'm not gonna get the security deposit back. Dammit.

She shoves me down to the ground, "Let me finish!" Her hand grips my jaw and I see a wisp of smoke start up out of my open mouth again. And a black blur knocks her off of me.

I stand up and look over. There's Faith, standing in a defensive pose over Kathy.

The demon doesn't move. She's just lying on the ground. If she even is a _she,_ that is. That's fucking creepy. I walk over, lift her up slightly and grip her head. I give it a solid twist and a cracking noise reverberates through the room. All of the mist floats quickly back into me.

Oh my god. I just killed my roommate. I stare at her in shock. Sure, she was a demon, but that doesn't mean she's evil. Willow is still standing in the doorframe and Faith drops down onto the bed.

Just in front of me, a portal opens and whirls in the ground, flashing bright lights everywhere. Two demons walk out in black robes.

I can't believe I killed her. I feel a tear start to well up. I'm not upset that she's gone, or dead or whatever. But, I can't believe I'd kill someone just because I can't get along with them.

*******

Flowers cover the walls all around me and I study them. Some are so beautiful. I've never seen a few of them before. Most I know the names of.

I glare down at Scooby. Whistler's late. As usual. I sit down on the edge of a cement bench, leaning in to sniff a passion flower.

"You did good, Kid." I turn sharply and see the horribly dressed man.

"No I didn't. I killed her."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah, but she was a demon."

My eyebrows knit together. "But not all demons are evil, and I didn't even know she was one until we had already started fighting."

"Part of you did." He smiles knowingly at me. "Besides, she was stealin' your soul Kiddo."

"What?" No wonder… That explains everything. The cursing, the temperament, the trying to kill my roommate. Okay admittedly, the last one is worse than the other two, but still.

He just nods. "Yup." Picking a flower, he twirls it in his fingers. "The PtB thought you were a goner for sure. That you'd make morning newspaper headlines after the first night. But you held on." After a second, he crumples up the flower and tosses it over his shoulder.

I wanna get down to business. "So why did you want me to meet you here?"

He just shrugs again. "You'll need your own space as time goes on. The path you've chosen is a very solitary one. You can never fully be a part of the world you're fighting so hard to protect. But you'll never fully be a part of the side you've chosen to fight, either." A regretful sigh escapes his lips. "You'll never really fit in." He shrugs and holds out his arms around him. "So, this place is yours."

What? "Are you serious?"

He grins at me, "As the dead. Don't complain Kid, you should see the dump they set me up in. I'll be seein ya."

He gives a slight wave and I watch as he turns and walks away.


End file.
